The Wormhole Effect
by Tr0p3
Summary: Life is just a series of choices. Some of them big, some of them insignificant. I used to think it was easy to tell the difference, but after a seemingly harmless decision leaves me stranded in Mass Effect, I'm suddenly not so sure. Now, stuck three years before the events of the first game, I've got quite a few decisions to make. I just hope that I make the right ones. Self-insert
1. The Hangover

Ch 1: The Hangover

21…

To any normal person, 21 is just a number like any other. To people in my situation, 21 is everything.

It's the difference between victory, and defeat. Between the best night of your life, and the worst. Between life…and death.

…ok, maybe that last one is an exaggeration, but you get my point.

Why is 21 so important to me right now? Well, the answer is simple.

…I'm in Vegas, baby! Yes, Las Vegas, the city of bright lights, drunken nights, and five dollar lobster.

So, as I sit at a black jack table in the famous Caesar's Palace, with ten thousand dollars on the table, I'm praying for twenty one. Although, I guess it doesn't matter that much. Even if I lose, I'd still be leaving with a lot more than I came with.

Having just graduated St. Mary's University in Minnesota, my best friend and I scrounged up all the money we could and took a road trip. We both started with around one-thousand dollars five days ago. Now, we're betting at least ten times that. Honestly, I lost count of how much money I actually have. To the others at the table, we just seem like lucky bastards, but in actuality, we know very well what we're doing.

What we're doing isn't illegal, although certain institutions frown upon it. However, it does require a gifted mind and a lot of practice.

Me…I have neither. I can't even finish a game of solitaire without rage quitting. Luckily, Craig, the super genius, just happened to be my friend since freshman year of college. So, after an enormous amount of persuasion, he agreed to learn how to count cards.

He handles all the actual work, and me, I just have to wait for his signals. As an actor, that's something I can easily do. It's just as easy as memorizing lines and waiting for my queue.

Craig and I are sitting at opposite ends of the table, pretending that we don't know each other for the sake of the people who may or may not be watching us through security cameras. After five days of doing this, I can definitely say that the people watching aren't nearly as strict as they were portrayed in the movie 21, but I would rather not risk having Laurence Fishburne break my cheek bone with a tiny hammer.

In between us are two others, a man and a woman. The man is definitely older, probably somewhere in his mid-thirties, and looks rather disheveled. His black hair is untidy, his facial hair is patchy, and he's wearing his suit in a way that suggests he just rolled out of bed.

The woman is around our age with long blonde hair and a fancy red dress. Frankly, she completely outshines the rest of us in terms of appearance. Craig and I may have dressed for the occasion, but she had all of the looks to complement her dress, making her look like someone straight out of movie.

To be honest, I felt a bit out of place, but can anyone blame me. You can dress me up all you want, but I'm still the pasty-faced, spiky-haired geek I always was. Not that I'm in any way shy, but I just kind of had the feeling that I was out of place while sitting next to her.

But, as usual, how I look isn't important to me right now. What _is _important is the enormous amount of money I have on the table. So, being that about half my winnings are at stake here, I anxiously watch as the dealer begins handing out the cards. As usual, I only focus on mine at first.

…eight…three.

I bite my lip. Of course, I already know that the smart thing to do when the deck is hot is to double down, but I'm not about to start going with my gut instinct. That's exactly how you lose money here.

I quickly glance across the table at Craig, who had just been dealt a ten and a jack. His eyes flick in my direction, making sure that I'm watching, and then he cracks his neck. Right side first, left side next.

Translation… "The count is +13."

Thirteen more high cards then low cards and quite a few neutral cards that would still give me a high number. That confirms exactly what I was thinking. However, it didn't do anything to help my nerves. No matter how good my chances are, there's always the possibility that I might lose.

I glance around the table nervously. Why did everyone else have a good hand? The woman in the red dress just got twin aces for crying out loud. And the slob…holy shit he already has twenty-one. Even the dealer has a queen flipped up for the rest of us to see. How can the deck be hot when there are so many high cards on the table? Did Craig lose the count? …no…no he didn't. We have a signal for that. God damn it, I need to calm down.

As expected, Craig stays. He has twenty already, so taking a hit would just be a death wish.

The woman is next in line. She splits her aces and is immediately dealt a pair of queens to match. That's two winning hands right there.

So, considering the slob got blackjack, the dealer then turns to me expectantly. This is it, do or die…

I put on a fake smirk. "If I win this, everyone's drinks are on me tonight."

That definitely got the tables attention. All eyes are on me now, waiting to see what I'm going to do. Counting out the appropriate number of chips, I lay them down next to my first stack.

"Double down."

…why the hell did I just do that? Why didn't I just say hit? Do I really expect to win, _again_? How could I…oh shit. Why are my lungs collapsing?

I fumble around my pocket for my inhaler, shove the nozzle in my mouth, and immediately breathe in the medicinal vapor, eliciting a chuckle from the woman in red.

…damn asthma…making me look like a geek…although, considering past experience, I don't really need any help with that.

The dealer grabs a card from the deck. Oh God…I can't watch this…but I have to.

The card flips and…

"Hell yeah! King of spades, baby! That's twenty one!" I shout with an added fist pump, looking like a damn idiot in the process. However, for once, nobody is staring at me awkwardly. Quite the contrary, they're cheering me on. I suppose my intention of buying them alcohol after this hand has something to do with that, but I'm too ecstatic to care.

The dealer frowns, as he turns his other card over.

…7…that makes seventeen, he has to take a hit. He draws another card and…

Five! Dealer busts! Everybody wins, and I've officially made over $40,000 in one trip to Vegas!

My first reaction, embarrassingly, is to get up and do a victory dance. However, remembering I'm in public, I simply resort to cheering and wooting with the rest of the table. Once the excitement finally dies down and all of us are given our chips, the slob speaks up.

"So…how about that drink?" he asks hopefully. The woman in red smiles in agreement and Craig is already piling his chips into his plastic bag.

Well, they say quit while you're ahead…

Still grinning like an idiot, I nod. "Sure, where's the nearest bar?"

The woman in red spills all of her chips into her tiny hand purse in one smooth motion. "Follow me, I know a good place."

* * *

…ok…this isn't exactly what I had in mind.

Apparently, the place she was referring to is a nightclub attached to the other end of the casino. Pulse-pounding bass, flashing lights, you know, the works. Places like this normally give me a headache after about five minutes, and considering I'm coming here to drink, something tells me I'll be in a lot of pain tonight.

Still, it isn't all bad. We managed to get a table in the corner away from all the noise, ordered four shots of tequila, and told the bartender to keep them coming.

Once said bartender leaves, the woman in red raises her glass with a smile. "To our generous benefactor."

I smirk at that and clink it with my own before gulping it down and slamming it on the table upside down.

She smirks. "You're just out of college, aren't you?"

I blink at that. How did she possibly know that? "Uh…yeah. My friend and I just graduated. But how did-"

"It's a gift." She interrupts with a smug grin. "I'm good at reading people. You seem to be around that age and the way you just drank that shot screams 'frat boy'"

I chuckle a bit, reminiscing about my last frat party while she turns to the slob. "And you're a workaholic who's here for business and had some free time to hit the casino."

He leans back in his seat. "Actually, I'm here for the ADAA dodgeball tournament. Don't you watch ESPN 8?" he says nonchalantly.

I snort at that. What do you know? Another guy with an actual sense of humor. The blonde on the other hand isn't nearly as amused. "…smartass."

"Well," I say, trying to keep the conversation going, "if we're going to be drinking all night, and I have a feeling we are because I'm paying for all of you, I think introductions are in order, yes?"

The woman takes the initiative. "My name is Cora, I just graduated from med school." She states proudly.

"Yippee for you." The slob remarks sarcastically, earning him a glare from the annoyed blonde. Something tells me that he's only here for the free booze. "If you must know, my name is Parker. I'm a lawyer and _yes_, as she stated, I'm here on business."

"Craig, engineer and game designer." He states as quickly and quietly as possible, obviously not wanting to be here at all. I really need to get him to socialize more, because quite frankly, he sucks at it.

And that just left me. "My name's Dan, I was a theatre major…guess I'm an actor now, but I can't really call myself that until I've had a professional job."

Cora cocks an eyebrow, making me a tad uncomfortable. "What?" I ask.

"Nothing…just…big guys like you aren't usually into that kind of thing." She answers.

I shrug. "Yeah I guess that's true, but that just means I'm competing with less people for the role of the villain."

She's about to say something else, but the next round of shots come and it seems to halt the conversation.

So…we have two anti-socials, a smoking hot, if not slightly bigheaded, future doctor, and a six-foot-five theatre geek, all consuming a fair amount of alcohol.

…what could possibly go wrong?

* * *

Ok…this…is totally awesome.

After the second round of drinks, I figured one of us needed to stay sober to keep us from doing anything stupid. And of course, it had to be me, which I thought would completely suck, but I've just had an amazing revelation.

The only thing more fun than getting drunk with two strangers and your best friend, is watching two strangers and your best friend get drunk. It was around the fourth shot that they started acting a little loopy and actually started talking to each other. However, I've kind of lost track of how many they've had so far, and they were now completely out of it. So far the conversation ranged from Craig thinking the female bartender was hitting on him, to Cora wondering what it would be like if she had eyes on her hands.

How the conversation changed from misperceived flirting to a scene from Pan's Labyrinth, I'll never know, but I wasn't really complaining.

They're in the midst of one of their giggling hysterics when the bartender comes with another round. I'm questioning whether it's really needed at this point, but then I focus in on one glass in particular.

It…has a worm in it. What the hell? I knew some tequila bottles had worms in them, but they really served them in shot glasses? Or was it just a mistake? It had to be a mistake, right? I mean, who the hell would drink a worm shot?

Unfortunately, my question is answered as Craig reaches across the table. I reach for his hand to stop him.

"What the heck are you doing? You _do_ see what's in that shot glass, right?"

He glances downward and his eyes widen. "Whoa…there's a worm in there…awesome!"

Parker starts chuckling. "Lucky bastard…those things are supposed to be ten times better than marijuana."

Craig shakes his head. "Nah man…that's just a myth."

"Actually," Cora explains with a slight slur in her speech, "It's completely true…"

I give an amused smirk. "Learn that at med school, did you?"

"Yeah…what of it?" She says, followed by an odd hiccup sound.

"In that case," Craig states before turning to shout to the bartender. "Yo, barkeep, gimme three more worms!"

I laugh a bit, never seeing this side of Craig before. Still, I have to stop him there. "Craig, I may do some stupid stuff, but I'm not drinking a tequila worm."

"Oh come on!" He says, lazily draping an arm around my shoulder. "It'll be fun."

I shake my head as the bartender comes with three more shots with worms in them. I give her a confused look. "That was awfully fast, do you get people ordering worms often?"

She laughs a bit and nods. "More often then you think."

"See?" Parker says. "People do it all the time, it's no big deal."

I look down at the worm in front of me as the peer pressure starts to sink in. Ok, so it's a worm…a worm that gives you freaky hallucinations…and apparently people drink these things all the time.

…I really shouldn't…but seriously…what could possibly go wrong?

I lift the glass up. "Alright fine, bottoms up."

I down it just like I would any shot, and everyone else follows.

We all sit there in silence, waiting for something to happen, and after a solid minute, I finally decide to speak up.

"You sure it's not a myth?" I ask.

All of the sudden, my answer comes in a way that I definitely didn't expect.

The worm starts to take effect. It's not that I was feeling weird, but rather, a lack of feeling. My entire body went completely numb. "Hey guys…I don't feel so good."

Ok…that's freaky…I know I said something but…I didn't really hear it…in fact, I can't really hear anything. Even the music playing in the background doesn't register. All I can hear is a dull humming in my head.

My eyelids feel heavy so I close them for a second, but that only makes me feel dizzy so I quickly open them back-

Holy Shit!

What the hell happened to Cora and Parker and why the hell am I looking at two salarians! I shake my head. Really? Why was I hallucinating about salarians? How the hell did my mind even come up with that? I haven't played that damn game in at least two years!

I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn to see a krogan in place of Craig, only causing me to freak out more. Not thinking at all about what I'm doing, I get up and run, or rather stumble, away from the table.

I turn the corner and…

Ok…what the hell was in that fucking worm?

Where there was once a crowd of completely normal people dancing the night away, is an alien mosh pit. Turians, asari, and, granted the occasional human, are all dancing amidst the flashing lights. I stand and stare in disbelief as my legs begin to quiver. I suddenly realize that I can no longer support my own weight.

I tumble backwards to the ground as the room starts spinning. People seem like their moving a mile a minute and everything is passing me in a blur. The dull humming sound slowly gets louder until the point where it sounds like a fucking air raid is passing overhead.

I clamp my hands around my ears and tuck my head into my knees, trying desperately to muffle the noise, to no avail. I close my eyes out of fear, but then, suddenly, everything stops.

The roaring noise cuts off and when I open my eyes everything is pitch black. I blink in bewilderment when my sense of touch finally comes back to me.

…I feel…cold. Not 8 below 0, freezing my ass off cold, but just…I don't know how to explain it.

It was as if all the warmth had suddenly left me…am I dying?

…somehow I would have thought that would be much more painful. Then again, I doubt I could die from eating a worm. Unless this is some sort of allergic reaction…but it's not like any one I've ever had before.

Before I have time to further think about my situation, I suddenly feel like I'm falling, but I never hit the ground.

Instead, I slowly slip into unconsciousness.

* * *

"Gah...fuck that hurts!" I scream as I cringe from the sudden wave of pain that shoots through my body. But hey, what do you know, I have my hearing back. I open my eyes, to find I'm still in complete darkness, but this was different somehow.

A pulse-pounding headache soon greets me as well. Although extremely uncomfortable, I'm actually a little glad for it. That just means that this freaky acid trip is over.

Now the question is…where the hell am I?

I try to stand up but only end up banging my head on the ceiling. When the hell did it get that low, anyway? I press my hands against it and…it's metal?

Since when are their metal ceilings at Caesar's Palace…or anywhere for that matter. I spread my hands out along the ceiling only to find that the walls are just as restricting.

…am I in a crate?

I place my hands back on the ceiling and begin to try and force it open, but it doesn't budge.

Well…that's just great. How the hell am I supposed to get out of here, and for that matter, how did I get in here in the first place? Did those idiots decide to pull a prank on me while we were all drunk off our asses? If so, this was definitel not funny.

Wait a second…what the hell is that on my arm?

I begin to feel up and down my right arm. It seems to be covered with some sort of…I don't even know how to describe it, it just feels like some smooth substance is-

"Holy Shit!" I'm completely scared out of my mind as orange holograms spark to life around my hand.

This…this is an omni-tool…why the hell do I have an omni-tool?

I can't still be hallucinating; this feels way too real to be induced by drugs. I had to be dreaming. Yeah…that's it…I'm in a dream…an extremely painful, uncomfortable, and vivid dream…holy shit I'm not dreaming am I?

But where the hell did this come from? This isn't supposed to be…oh shit…can't breath.

I fumble around for my inhaler, which is thankfully, still in my pocket and breathe it in, getting my lungs to settle a bit.

Ok…much better…now don't freak out, there's a logical explanation for everything, I just need to relax and figure this-

I accidentally tap one of the icons on the omni-tool and an orange blade shoots up within perfect slicing range of my face.

"Holy Shit!" I back up out of instinct and shove my own hand away, incidentally cutting a huge gash right through the top of the crate. As I do this, I hear a loud buzzing noise and the wall I've been leaning against pops off, sending me sprawling to the ground.

Well…that worked…note to self, do not fuck around with this omni-tool.

I stand up and brush myself off. Ok…I'm in an alleyway, but an alleyway _where_ exactly? It doesn't exactly look like Las Vegas.

I look around a bit, seeing a few other crates like the one I just busted myself out of, but other than that, nothing much, so there wasn't much to go on.

I knew I had to get out of this alley if I was going to make sense of anything, but I honestly fear for my sanity too much to take a single step. There are only two conclusions I can draw. I've somehow gotten a hold of a piece of futuristic technology while I was drunk, or…

…I don't even want to think about the other possibility. But hey, other than the omni-tool, everything else is the same, so it's more likely that it's the first, rather than the ladder. So taking a deep breath, I step outside…into…the…

My brain short circuits as I step onto the sidewalk. Sure I don't see any aliens, but there is still enough evidence lying around. Omni-tools, public access terminals, V.I.'s, and flying cars are in every direction I look.

As I stare blankly at the world around me, I pinch myself just to make absolutely sure I'm not dreaming…but of course, I'm not.

This wasn't part of my acid trip…but it made for one hell of a hangover.

…Zack Galifianakis can kiss my ass…

* * *

**THANK GOD! I've been meaning to write this for some time but never got around to it. For readers of my former self-insert, I'm sorry, but this isn't a re-write, I had a completely new idea that I liked and just went for it. To anyone who is new, don't bother going back to read the first one because it's really bad and I'm taking it down soon.**

**Updates may be erratic for some time because I've got a bit of a hectic schedule.**

**That's it for now.**

**-trope**


	2. For Want of a Blue Pill

Ch 2: For Want of a Blue Pill

I sit cross-legged on one of the crates in the alleyway, breathing deeply and trying to keep myself calm. It's been, give or take, an hour since I slashed my way out of the crate, and as expected, I was more than a little freaked out. My reaction broke down into three key parts: panic, anxiety, and an asthma attack.

Since then I've been able to calm down enough to think about my situation, but as one would expect, there was no real way to cope with being stuck in a different dimension, so now I'm back to panic, anxiety, and…crap…can't breathe.

I clutch my inhaler in my hand and begin to bring it to my mouth, but stop before I actually take the medicine. I wait a few painful seconds, taking deep breaths despite my wheezing. Soon, it passes, and I'm back to normal. Where I usually would have taken a breath of it right away, I was going to have to get used to conserving it. I don't exactly know how much of it I have left, but I can't just use it whenever I start breathing heavy.

So, it will stay on reserve unless I'm dying on the floor, at least until I find more medicine, or, preferably, a way home.

…Oh crap…home! What the hell happened to me back there? Did I die? Did I just vanish into thin air? Am I stuck in a coma like some crappy sci-fi movie? I've read plenty of stories of college students who go on vacation and just vanish without a trace. Will I become one of them?

What kind of shit will my parents have to go through? As far as I know, they still think I'm living it up in Vegas. How long will it take them to figure out that I've dropped off the face of the earth? I can't believe I'm actually thinking this…but for their sake, I hope that I'm in a coma or something. My mom is the kind of person that never gives up, especially when her children are involved. To think of her searching for me when I know damn well she'll never find me just makes me feel…ugh…I can't even describe it.

I feel tears beginning to well up in my eyes but halt the waterworks before they can even start. Crying isn't going to solve anything, so I just need to man up and start treating this like the massive hangover that it is.

Step one; remember as much as I can about last night.

Ok, quick recap. So I won my money in blackjack, offered the table drinks, took them to that crappy nightclub, watched the rest of them get drunk, Craig ordered a bunch wormshots and then we-

Wait a minute. We _all_ took those shots. Does that mean _all_ of us are here? I doubt it…in fact, I'm still questioning if it was the worm that sent me here or if this is just some screwed up coincidence, but it makes about as much sense as everything else so far, so I'm not ruling it out as a possibility.

Anyway…then everything turns into a hallucination and I wake up in another universe, stuffed in a crate with a piece of futuristic technology on my wrist. I know it's not what I should be worrying about right now, but how did I get this thing in the first place. It's just, even _if_ I knew how I got here, it wouldn't explain how I have it. I mean, all my other clothes and items are still the same, so how exactly did I get this.

…actually, now that I think about it, this kind of helps me. Eliminating the possibility of spontaneous generation, the only explanation is that somebody gave it to me. Whoever it is, is almost definitely the same person who put me in the crate and, I think it's safe to guess, the same person who brought me here.

What do you know, retracing your steps really _does_ help you figure stuff out.

Anything else…no, not that I can think of, so I think that leads me to step two; find out where I am?

If I had to guess, I'd say I'm on earth, as I don't see any aliens around. That's probably a good thing, as it will be much easier to fit in here than on the Citadel or something. Not that it will be particularly easy for me to fit in here either. I mean, I'm wearing a rented tuxedo from over a hundred years ago. Even in _my_ universe it would be weird to walk down the street wearing this.

…but, then again, it's not my main concern right now.

Now, where am I on Earth? Shouldn't be too hard to figure out, just a quick check on my omni-tool and-

…you know what? I'd actually rather not turn this thing back on considering I almost lost a chunk of my face last time. So, I guess I'll wait until I purchase "Omni-Tools for Dummies." Shouldn't be a problem, I'll just look for a public access terminal.

Still, what exactly do I do then? It would really help if I had a plan of attack here. I mean, chances are I'm going to be stuck here for a while and I'm going to need some sort of income if I want to stay alive. I don't exactly know how I would go about getting a job, though.

The only thing I really have training for is in acting, and that's a tough career to pursue even _with_ a relevant resume. There's no way that anyone would hire a random guy with no experience whatsoever off the street. I mean, I don't even have proof that I exist in this universe, so what the heck do I do?

Getting off of Earth would be preferable, as this is where the reapers are going to hit when Mass Effect 3 rears its ugly head. I don't know if that's what I should be focusing on or not, but the only knowledge I have is based on the video games, so I'm gonna damn well use it.

Actually, it doesn't matter where I am when the reapers hit…they hit _everywhere_. In fact, I think the safest place to be would be is…wait…

The Normandy, that's it! I can join Shepard and-

I mentally slap myself at the stupidity of my own idea. Join Shepard and do _what_ exactly? _Act _like I know how to shoot a gun? _Act_ like I would be any help against the reapers? No way. Even if Shepard _did_ take me on the ship, which he (or she) wouldn't, I'd be about as useful as a red shirt on Star Trek.

So, Shepard's out, but that doesn't mean I should give up on finding a ship to board. I mean, sure I wouldn't be any help on a military vessel, but even the Normandy had its own Mess Sergeant, which, granted, is a glorified term for space cook and/or janitor, but hey, that's something I can actually do.

Ok, so, find a ship, get a job, and from there I can just make up a plan as I go, but first, I need a public access terminal.

…

…wow…this is…actually really hard. Here I thought I was used to being looked at funny but this is just ridiculous. Everybody I pass is staring at me like I'm insane, their reactions ranging from barely contained laughter to confused double takes and some people are even glaring at me. Seriously, it's like that one scene from Die Hard with a Vengeance when Bruce Willis is walking around Harlem with a sign that says "I hate-

My train of thought is temporarily derailed as some guy slams his shoulder into me. It wasn't hard enough to throw me off balance, but had just enough force to let me know that it was intentional.

I turn to see some guy with a black jacket and his hood up, storming away from me. What the heck is _his_ problem?

…Where was I?... Oh yeah. This was just like Bruce Willis walking down Harlem.

Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if this _was_ New York. Traffic is bumper to bumper, the buildings are so tall that they make _me _feel small, which I might add, is no small feat, finding an open terminal is a pain in the neck, everyone is giving me the evil eye, and the one time I actually had the audacity to ask for directions, they completely ignored me and kept walking. Yep, definitely New York, or at the very least, Chicago.

But alas, it seems that my search is finally over as I see someone leave their terminal just across the street. I immediately take off running for it, not caring who I'm bowling over in the process. So far, open terminals have only stayed that way for about three seconds before being taken again, so I'm not taking any chances.

Sure enough, I reach it about two seconds before some else does. But it doesn't seem to matter to him as he pushes past me and sits down anyways.

I scoff at him and cross my arms. "Seriously?"

He looks at me with a scowl that I think is supposed to be intimidating, but really just makes him look like a moron. "Tough luck. Go find another one."

…you know what?...no…I will _not _go find another. This is _my_ damn terminal and no scrawny little asshole with a stupid ass scowl on his face is going to cheat me out of _my_ terminal. I don't care what he needs it for, I'm pretty sure that my need is greater than his.

Alright, time to use one of my favorite lines. Puff out chest, narrow eyes, furrow eyebrows, and pull the right trigger for a renegade interrupt.

I lean in and get right up in his face. "I have three different knives concealed on my body, and am deadly accurate with all of them. Now think about it. You really want to steal this terminal?"

He blinked in disbelief. Huh…my acting must not be as good as it used to be. Normally I would have gotten a much better reaction than that. What can I say? It's been a few years since I've actually gotten a role that was significantly intimidating. I must be little rusty. Then again, I did just steal a line from "Destroy All Humans 2". I guess it isn't as badass when it's not in context. Also, I don't have a thick Russian accent like Natalia did to give it that extra kick. Damn, now that I think about it, that line must have sounded pathetic coming out of _my _mouth.

But, lucky for me, I'm 6' 5 and have a body structure like a football player, so as long as I keep a straight face, it's pretty easy for me to scare the crap out of people when I have to. Case in point, the jerk who just stole my terminal is now slipping past me and walking as quickly as possible in the other direction. He looks over his shoulder and I smile, waving at him just to mess with his head.

With a slight chuckle, I take my seat in the terminal and the screen flickers to life in front of me.

It looks like your everyday web browser, with the exception of the advertisements, showing stuff like "fornax" or "tupari sports drinks". Although, one other thing does catch my eye. The date in the corner reads 1/23/80.

80...as in 2180...well that's just fucking great, not only am I stuck here, but I'm stuck here three years before anything I know about is going to happen. Then again...since I'm not joining Shepard, is any of that really relevant in the first place...I don't know.

For now, I'll push it to the back of my mind. I've got enough problems to worry about right now.

I click in the search bar, thinking about what to do.

OK…let's try this.

**google . com**

…

…

_**...**_

_**Error 293**_

_**Extranet Explorer could not find the page you were looking for. Refresh screen to try again.**_

…Google doesn't exist anymore?...My God, we're all doomed!

Before I even have time to check Bing, I am greeted with the blue screen of death.

Great...it's been well over a century and technology is _still_ unreliable...

But as quickly as it came, it disappears as a rush of computer code floods the screen.

Wait...I've seen this before...where have I seen this before? Isn't this what it looked like when Craig was reprogramming my computer? Why (and _how_ for that matter) would this computer be reprogramming itself?

I never get my answer, but it stops before I can ponder it further. The computer code disappears leaving only one sentence.

_**You're living in a dream world, Neo.**_

I blink a few times, trying to process what just happened. Did this machine...just...huh?

I press a few random keys just to see what will happen and a chat bubble appears towards the bottom of the screen. Looking around to see if anyone is witnessing this odd occurrence, I begin typing my response, only to be immediately interrupted.

_**You know, the only reason I gave you an omni-tool is so I wouldn't have to do **_**exactly this**_** just to talk to you. Do you have any idea how hard it is to track you through your omni-tool and hack into a public terminal in the middle of Chicago at the **_**same time,****without **_**raising any red flags?**_

So I _am _in chicago. I so called it.

...wait...why am I focusing on that? This is the fucking guy I was looking for! Naturally, I have quite a few things to get off my chest, most of which are explicit terms that would take too much time to write out in full, but it would be pointless to try and express my anger through a chatroom, so I decide to just stick with the necessary questions.

**Who are you?**

_**You answer my question, I'll answer yours. Why aren't you using your omni-tool, I must have messaged you at least five times since you've woken up but you haven't answered.**_

**The last time I used this thing, I nearly lost a chunk of my face from that damn omni-blade you put on it.**

_**You're kidding me right? For Christ's sake it has the same layout as a IPad!.**_

...It does?

I cautiously reach down to turn it on and, sure enough, the holograms have the same layout as your standard smartphone.

Need a twelve inch blade extending from your wrist? Apparently, there's an app for that.

The immediate instinct my ADD afflicted mind comes up with is to fiddle around with it as much as possible, but as I reach for one of the icons on the hologram, an incoming call flashes on the screen. Despite everything, I have to roll my eyes at the caller I.D.

**Mr. Shadow**

I press a button that seems likes it's the 'accept' button and start talking, assuming it'll work like a speaker phone. "How many stupid sci-fi references are you going to make?" I ask, not in the mood for any of this crap.

"_Oh come on, where's your sense of humor?" _A deep, somewhat gruff voice chuckles from the other end. He sounded like he was older...maybe in his late thirties, but then that's just speculation.

"I woke up over a hundred years in the future this morning...so, excuse me for not finding humor in you turning me into a modern day Rip van Winkle."

"_Whoa, hey there!" _he tries to defend, _"Who said anything about _me_ bringing you here?"_

I quirk an eyebrow at that. "You didn't? ..._Well then who the fuck are you!?" _I shout just a little bit louder than I intended. Realizing my mistake, I look around to see a few people glancing in my direction, but for the most part, they just keep walking.

"_ok...I'll make you a deal...I'll tell you everything I know...if you shut your mouth and quit drawing attention to yourself, kay pumpkin?" _He tells me in a condescending voice, as if I were two years old. If it wasn't apparent to me already, I can tell by that last sentence that I hate this guy. Still, he has a point, and whether or not I like it, he at least knows what's going on, and knowledge is definitely something I need right now.

"Fix this terminal and hold on a minute, I'm gonna find some place safe to talk."

"_...fine, just hurry up, I don't have much time."_

I disregard what he says, getting up from the terminal in a slow walk and looking carefully for any place that looks deserted. Already I run into a problem because this is downtown Chicago. There are huge crowds of people just about everywhere finding an empty place is going to be pretty hard.

I scan the area, looking for another abandoned alleyway or a store of some sort that's relatively empty with no such luck. However, an idea occurs to me as my eyes find a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant...or at least...what I think is the futuristic equivalent of a hole-in-the-wall restaurant. Don't smaller places like those usually have single bathrooms?

...A little bit odd...but I'll take what I can get.

I duck in to find it's the mass effect equivalent of one of those roadside diners. It has all of the same elements to it; booths lining up against the windows, a bar stretching across the center, all it needed was an-

"Hey," The woman behind the counter greets me with a perky grin. "How can I help you, hun?"

...overly sweet waitress that calls people 'hun'...yep, definitely a roadside diner.

"Excuse me Miss, may I please use your bathroom." I ask politely.

"Sorry, hun. Not unless you buy something. Manager's orders."

I breathe a sigh of exasperation. It was worth a shot. "Never mind, I'll just-"

I'm interrupted as my omni-tool *pings* and instinctively look at it. Over the call that's already going there's a short notice.

**Credits recieved.**

**New credit balance: 50**

I blink in confusion for a moment before realizing what must have just happened and quickly shake it off. I take a quick glance at the menu hanging overhead and smile as I'm glad to see that Pepsi products have survived all of these years.

"On second thought, I'll have a Mountain Dew. I'll pay on the way out, I just really have to go." I explain. She nods and points me to a set of doors at the other end of the diner.

I mutter a quick thanks and slip into restroom, locking the door behind me.

"_You're welcome." _The man says nonchalantly.

"Excuse me?"

"_For the credits...you're welcome." _He repeats, this time with a bit of an arrogant overtone.

Really..._really_! How pompous can one guy possibly be.

"Oh right," I answer in the most sarcastic way possible, "Thank you _so much _for the Mountain Dew. You know, I'm only stuck in a different dimension, hopelessly lost, and cut off from everyone and everything I've ever known. But you know what? At least I have this one beacon of light in my otherwise meaningless existence. Give me one good reason why I should thank you for anything!"

"_Well," _he begins, _"You could always thank me for saving your drunk ass on Omega before you got robbed, or even worse, killed. You could thank me for not turning you into the police, who would, at the very least, keep you under lock and key until you can come up with a logical explanation as to why you don't exist. Or worse than that, I could have sold you to batarians for a good sum that would probably pay for a vacation. You could thank me for making an identity for you based off of the info I found on your phone so you don't have to hide who you really are and a passport so you're not stuck in one spot...oh, and there is that little bit about sending you to Earth so you don't accidentally start an intergalactic incident when you wake up. But if you want to continue to assume that I'm the bad guy here, that's fine with me."_

I'm silent for a moment, trying to process everything that he just said. Why...who would do something like that for someone they don't even know...I assume he's telling the truth...I mean, it's not like he has a reason to lie to me.

"How come I don't remember any of this?" I ask honestly, finally dropping my accusatory tone.

"_You were flat out wasted, I'd be surprised if you _did_ remember anything from the other day. I don't know what you were on, but whatever it was, it was strong. You're just lucky _I_ found you first, because you started rambling on about how you were trapped in a video game. While in this case, you were telling the truth, people would have thought you were mental. I gave you a heavy sedative to shut you up which knocked you out and dropped you off on Earth where you're less likely to make a scene."_

I sigh in exasperation and shake my head. "I don't suppose waiting for me to sober up and explaining all of this in person was an option?"

"_I would if I could, but I can't. Being honest here, my job isn't exactly legal and I've made quite a few enemies that I don't want catching up with me. Dragging you with me is not only a major complication on my part, but might end up making you an accessory if I just so happened to get caught. Trust me, this is better."_

So...he really _is_ trying to help? God damn, now I just feel like an asshole for jumping to conclusions...I've been reading too much fanfiction. Still, just one thing rubs me the wrong way.

"Why are you doing this?"

"_I beg your pardon?"__**  
**_

"...you said it yourself, you're a criminal. Why take the time to help me? Am I just supposed to believe you're a good samaritan."

He's silent on the other end for a few moments and then begins speaking solemnly. _"Let's get this straight now. I'm a hacker, and a damn good one at that, but not because I want to be. Long story short, I made some bad decisions and now I'm in too deep, that's the only reason I live the way I live. Now I've got about three minutes left before I have to take my ship off of auto-pilot, and I want to make 'em count, so let's get to the point. What's your plan, Dan?"_

"Oh...well," I stumble a bit as my brain does its best to shift gears after it's latest revelation. "I was going to try and find some sort of menial job on a ship and then just kind of think of a plan from there."

"_...Alright...it's not the best plan, but it'll work for now. There's a shipyard not too far from here, nothing very fancy, just a bunch of passenger ships, but I bet at least one or two of them are hiring. You have a map on your Omni-tool, I'll mark it for you. Also, if no one is hiring, I suggest heading to the Citadel and looking for work there. I'm sorry, I'm not exactly made of credits at the moment so i can't help you with passenger fare, but you can sell your old stuff at a pawn shop for a pretty high price."_

A map popped up on my omni-tool, showing me the destination of the nearest place I could sell my stuff as well as the shipyard.

"Anything else?"

"_No...wait, yes. Just one thing, it's very simple. Don't. Do. _Anything!"

...I'm sorry...what?

"What do you mean by that?"

"Look, I'm assuming you played all the way through Mass Effect 3, but if you haven't, spoiler alert, the reapers will be destroyed."

...unless Shepard chooses to refusal ending...which is the ending I liked the best...still, now that I'm actually here, I'm feeling a bit differently about it. "So what's your point?"

"_...are you aware of the term Butterfly Effect?"_

"...Remind me again?"

"_I'm saying that every action you take changes something in some way. I know that you're stuck here and there's nothing you can do about it, and by all means, go and live your life, but try to lay low. Don't do anything newsworthy, if it seems like you might be changing canon don't do it, and above all, stay away from Shepard."_

"Wasn't planning on it." I answer honestly.

"_Good...I'm out of time. Don't bother trying to call back if you need me, I change my number almost every week. I'll figure out some way for you to contact later, but for now you're on your own. Any questions that can be answered in the next thirty seconds?"_

...Well, frankly yes, I still had many, _many_ questions, the forefront of which involving how the hell he knows about all of this if he just found me on the street like he said he did. I mean, what are the chances of that? One in...I don't know, infinity?

...I think he's lying. I can't prove it, but I still don't trust him. Still...if he really did bring me here...why would he just tell me to lay low. If he went through the trouble to yank me from my own universe, he'd want me to do something, right?

...Ugh, this is making my head hurt!

"_I'll take your silence as a no._" He says, as I realize I've been thinking for too long.

"Yeah...I'll be fine from here...I think." I say uncertainly.

"_Glad to hear it. I'll try to stay in touch, but no promises. Hope everything goes well."_

...and with that, he disconnects.

I take a deep breath and lean against the wall. Ok...so I have a plan...I've got a way to make some quick cash...If I'm to believe what he's saying, I should have some identification somewhere on my omni-tool. I'll be fine...right?

I shake it off, trying not to think about it. There's nothing left now but to go through with the plan and hope for the best. I look up toward the ceiling and shove my hands in my pockets as I run over the plan in my head, but all too quickly, I realize something's wrong.

...Where's my phone and IPod?

A jolt of fear immediately shoot through my body as I run my hands through all of my pockets, in case I moved them and just forgot about it, but they're nowhere to be found. They couldn't have just fallen out...could they? When could they...have...

My train of thought is derailed as a thought comes to mind.

...didn't...didn't some guy bump into me earlier today? Yeah, that guy in the black jacket with his hood up...did he...was he a...

I clench my fists as my brain finally draws the conclusion.

"...Son of a bitch!"

* * *

**Wow...it's been a REALLY long time hasn't it. I won't even begin to make excuses, the list is too long and it would just be a waste of time for me to put them all down, so instead, I'll just say I'm sorry. If anyone is still reading this, I'm sorry for the long wait.**

**But I'm back, I've got a new username because the old one kind of sucked, and I'd like to say that I'll be posting more frequently from now on...I'd like to say that, but i have no clue if that's true or not. So once again, next chapter will be whenever I have the time to write it.**

**- Trope**


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